In the Eyes of Another

24 x 24 inches - Oil on Belgian Linen

     Broken records, trusses, and trees. 

     The winter of 2022/23 was a tough year. Snowfall amounts were extraordinary and broke records with 104.1 inches in one season. Our garage’s trusses broke, too, and the rooftop caved in under the weight of the snow. Young jack pines, ones that we’d planted seven years prior, bent and broke, and it was the first time I’d ever seen upright tree cages that looked perfectly normal at eye level squashed at the bottom, resulting in tangled messes of heavy wire compressed like accordions. Heavy snow will have its way. 

Jack pine damage from snow weight. Photo taken May 10, 2023 at my home in Duluth, MN.

     Spring joyously arrived and brought my first sightings of snowshoe hares to my yard. They’re one of those animals I thought I’d never see. Why haven’t I seen them before? I was lucky enough not to assume they’d stick around (they didn’t), so I got photos almost as quickly as I saw them. Would my chances of seeing them again require another winter with 140 inches of snow? I might take a pass on that. 

My photo of snowshoe hares taken April 6, 2023 at my home in Duluth, MN.

     With great snow comes mountainous snowbanks, and when I saw a Ruffed Grouse displaying under a cedar tree on March 25th near the road, I threw on my winter gear, grabbed my camera, and headed out to get some photos. There was only one problem. The best shots would have to be from the road, but the snowbank was in the way. I needed at least another foot in height, so I walked back to the house and pulled out a small step ladder. Slowly, I walked back to the grouse, being careful not to disturb it. 

     As I approached, a man driving a truck stopped beside me. He rolled down his window and asked if I was running away. I thought to myself, running away? From what or whom? What an odd question. Would I be carrying a ladder and a camera if I were running away? If I had been carrying a stuffed backpack, a glazed donut and a bottle of tequila, his question might have made more sense. Anyway, as much as I was perplexed by his inquiry, I surmised he was simply being curious and had impulsively tossed out an uncomposed question. I didn’t think much of it. After all, when two strangers meet, conversations can sometimes take unpredictable detours. I pointed to the grouse’s position and gave my explanation to the man. Within seconds he turned a deaf ear, and I might as well have been speaking Swahili. He wasn't interested. I took no offense, and he politely drove off. 

     I unfolded the ladder on the side of the road, stepped up, and readied my camera. Thankfully, the grouse was still in full display on the other side of the sunny snowbank, and presumably hadn’t been bothered by our voices or the idling truck. The grouse appeared stationary, his feathers all fluffed out. He was so beautiful. With every shot, I noticed that I was getting a slightly different angle, and that’s because he was rotating his entire body at a pace that was almost undetectable. A female, or females, must have been nearby, for he was as serious as serious can be. He had the feathers, the stamina, the looks, the rotation, and with a little luck, a responsive female waiting in the trees above.

     My oil painting titled In the Eyes of Another depicts the Ruffed Grouse from March 25, 2023 that I've described in this blog.

     Stay wild, my friends.

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